Save Him
by azuresky1231
Summary: Kyle is a loner with a dark past. Can Stan save him before Kyle's secret kills him?  OOC, AU
1. Chapter 1

Hello~!

Caden here!

That's the author, by the way.

This story is from Kyle's POV, for any wonderers.

So.. yeah! Enjoy!

If you find any mistakes, it would be appreciated if you'd point them out.

It would also be appreciated if you reviewed! Thanks!

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><p>The air was cold, and I could see my breath. Clouds covered the sun, and snow would surely fall soon. Or rain. I didn't check the temperature; I don't see the point. If it snows, okay. Rain? Great. I gave up caring about a lot of things, a long time ago. Trivial matters, such as this, topping the list.<p>

I sigh, and a long puff of misty looking air leaves my mouth and dissipates. He would love the weather today... How the sun doesn't feel like waking up, and the now falling snow. Not that it's different from the weather any other time... But he would still love it. I chocked back tears, as I almost always do every damn time I think of him. I took a deep breath of the cold air. It burns my lungs, but it was a good hurt. Distracted me. Let me know I'm still alive.

I shouldn't still be like this, I know. With a sharp pain I remember next Wednesday would have been our two year anniversary. But who knows if we would have still been together. I'd like to think so. I'll celebrate next Wednesday in silence.

He loved celebrating stupid things like that. He wouldn't ever say it, no. Nor would he smile. He never smiled, but that was okay. I could always tell when he was happy. His eyes would light up, and just that made me feel happy.

I didn't realize the tears rolling down my face until my nose started running. I let myself cry, slipping down the brick wall to sit.

"Garret..." I whisper his name, and tears just come faster. I miss him. I've been trying to deny that as much as I could. For months I tried to forget... To move on. But I can't. Maybe because it's my fault he's gone, or because I loved him so much. It's also possible that it's just because he was the only person in my life that meant much of anything to me. And he just left me alone.

I'm not angry at him. No, I could never be angry at him. As my tears died, all I could feel was... nothing. So many emotions were going through me that they just died all at once, creating a numb feeling to take it's place. I wish the numbness would stay, but I know this isn't the end of my depression.

"Hey."

I glanced up at the blond standing before me. A cigarette was sticking out of his mouth, his blue eyes fixed on me.

"Kenny." I mumbled.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Of course I'm not."

"Bitch."

"Whore."

He grinned and sat down by me. Our friendship never really died, though honestly, there were several times it should have. "Cigarette?"

"Hell no."

"Hm. You don't know what you're missin." lit up another one and put it to his lips, inhaling deeply. I made a face.

"Disgusting." I mumbled.

"Shut up. You used to like them." He said. "Before HE came along and made you quit."

I punched his arm.

"Bitch." He said again. I'm assuming that's his favorite word.

I didn't bother responding, so he leaned over, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and pressed his lips to mine. This wasn't uncommon with Kenny. He liked to kiss me, though I never returned it. When he pulled away I wiped my lips and groaned.

"You taste gross."

He grinned. "You love it."

"Quit deluding yourself."

"Mhmm."

He kissed me again. It was never rough or demanding, which wasn't something I would have expected from him before. It was soft and sweet, almost loving. But It was a silent rule that I never kissed back, just let him do what he wanted to then let him leave.

Though, it was never more than a kiss.

Kenny pulled away, smiling. "Gotta go. Later, babe." He got up and left.

"You walk like a whore!" I yelled after him.

He flipped me off and turned a corner. It was then that I wondered when I would see him again. Kenny liked to disappear for no reason, then come back days, even weeks later, with a crazy story to tell. I don't even know if I believe half the shit he spouts.

The bell rang, and I got up. It was time for the only class I deemed decent- art.


	2. Chapter 2

From my seat in the back, I kept glancing up at the new boy. Who the hell _voluntarily _sits in the first row? I didn't know who he was, and that pissed me off. I knew everyone in my art class. From the black haired hippie girl to the hipster boy with tourettes who sat in the back and tried to keep himself quiet. Just because I don't like anyone here doesn't mean I shouldn't know them.

The only person who I consider even decent in this class is the guy that sits next to me. Everyone calls him curly goth, making me wonder if I'm the only fucking person who knows his name is Evan. His artwork is interesting, and that's how we began talking. Just a few comments here and there, and now we can actually hold a conversation. He had already began painting, ignoring the assignment the bitch faced teacher had given us.

I tapped his shoulder, and he scowled at me. "What?" He asked in that low voice of his. If I was into goth kids, I'd think it was sexy.

"Who's that?" I asked, glancing back at the boy, who was already talking to three different people like he'd known them forever.

"Stanley Marsh. The biggest fucking conformist here since Bebe." He grumbled, and he went back to his painting, feeling that the conversation wasn't important enough to grasp his full attention.

And Evan wasn't kidding. Stanley Marsh fit the role of 'fucking conformist' to a T. He had a so called perfect smile, swoopy, oh so popular bangs, and Aeropostale clothing. Any girl with a pulse would look at him and swoon.

Now that I knew his name, I felt no need to pay any further attention to him. I started work on a painting, ignoring the assignment. I knew I wouldn't finish this painting, either, and since I wasn't going to ever do the assigned work, this class was just another F on my report card. But I felt it was the only class worth actually going to and failing.

About ten minutes into class, the teacher suddenly decides we're going to do team art projects. It's not the first time we've done this, so I'm not surprised. I am when she pairs me with Stanley.

My eyes grew wide when she said my name then his. Ms. Bitch pointed me out to him, and he waved and grinned at me. I frowned and turned back to my painting, not happy about this arrangement at all. Usually I'm paired with Evan, and we do some deep dark shit, or just not do it at all. But since I'm paired with super boy over there, I knew I'd have to contribute.

I was so busy wallowing in misery that I barely noticed Evan feeling the same. He had been paired with Vampyr(dumbass vampire kid's real name is Mike), who he'd hated since the moment he met. But it was more than obvious 'Vampyr' had a thing for Evan.

When the class was instructed to move so we could talk to our partners, neither Evan or I moved. But after a minute, Mike got up and grabbed Evan, pulling the goth boy away. It was weird, because I couldn't remember the last time I had been alone in art class. Stanley bid goodbye to his new friends, and walked over to a sulking me.

"Hey, I'm Stan." He said, smiling too wide. That shit wasn't natural.

"Kyle. Obviously." I mumbled. Why the hell did he feel introductions were needed? The bitch already introduced us.

"So, what kind of project should we do? Ms. Andrews said we could do what we wanted, so..." Stan said.

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't really care."

"That doesn't help." He said.

"Pick what you want, and I'll just... add glitter or something. Or do the project myself. Really, it'd be better if I could do one of those two instead of actually working with you."  
>Stan frowned now. "The project is for the two of us to work on. Fifty fifty. You're not gonna slack, and neither am I."<p>

I just shrugged. "Think what you want."

The bell rang just then, and I quickly exited the class, pleased that I had gotten the last word. I went outside, wanting to shake off the happenings of art with some fresh air. Or, really, not.

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><p>As I leaned against the wall, I considered taking a cigarette the next time Kenny offered. I needed a stress reliever, and God knows I wasn't going to actually fuck him like he'd hinted at. Who knows how many STDs he had. Wait. Did those go away after he died? Especially if he died <em>of <em>them? I snickered.

"This is why you'd never be a good goth." Evan mumbled, sitting next to me against the brick wall. "You find things funny."

"I think you'd see it as pretty amusing as well." I said, glancing down at the black blob in my far field of vision. A thin white stick was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. … All of my friends smoke. How did I just then realize it?

"Mhmm. Try me."

"Kenny recently died of AIDs." I said, looking at his whole face now, waiting for a reaction. And he couldn't help the smirk that was on his face.

"Serves him right. Conformist whore."


	3. Chapter 3

I am SO sorry!

I'm shocked that people were even reading this; it's from last year and I haven't even thought about it.

The thing is... I wrote down this story on paper in my freshman year, and, well, now I'm a sophomore... So basically I lost the papers.

If I ever do find them again, I promise I will update. Till then!


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